


the darkness is a stranger (and i'm lonely)

by praisezelda



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/F, inspired by 2x18 but AU from 2x13 forward, moral of the story: ship charlotte with everyone and cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:22:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/praisezelda/pseuds/praisezelda
Summary: “Would you like a message to be sent with the delivery?”“Yes. 'Let's have sex. -Charlotte Richards.'”“Is that—“Charlotte raised her eyes to the ceiling. “No, it isnota joke.”





	the darkness is a stranger (and i'm lonely)

**Author's Note:**

> acceptable alternate titles for this are: "why the fuck did i write this" or perhaps "i'm glad mom didn't die" or absolutely "i wish charlotte had stayed and hooked up with everyone ayy"
> 
> takes place in the time between 2x13 and 2x14
> 
> idontknow.png

Charlotte hated human courtship rituals. It was official.

She hated them much in the same way she hated the actual humans. She hated them like she hated Earth, like she hated Him for doing this all to her, like she hated Charlotte Richards' husband and Charlotte Richards' children. (She had her own children: grown and beautiful and brave, not these tiny squirming things that cried whenever she so much as talked to them cruelly, and humans were so _weak_ that it made her sick.)

Flowers with idiotic meanings. Things that wilted. Things that were useless compared to boxes of chocolate, compared to strings of expensive jewelry, diamonds that glittered like sunlight over water. Yet they were a bigger part of human courtship than almost anything else. That was how Charlotte found herself in a flower shop one irritatingly sunny morning, plucking boredly at the petals of one bright white bouquet. The woman behind the counter, too bony with a nose like a hawk's beak, smiled beatifically at her when she came over. “How can I help you?”

Her tone grated. Too cheerful. Like the flowers themselves. Charlotte sighed, pointing out one bouquet behind the woman that was full of yellow and red roses. It seemed like something the human would like. “Those. Now.” She paused when the look on the woman's face fell, and then sighed out between gritted teeth, “ _Please._ ”

That smile returned, and Charlotte wanted nothing more than to slap it off her face.

“Would you like a message to be sent with the delivery?”

“Yes. 'Let's have sex. -Charlotte Richards.'”

The flower-woman stared blankly at her. Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

“Is that—“

Charlotte raised her eyes to the ceiling. “No, it is _not_ a joke.” She hastily scrawled the address to Linda Martin's office on a piece of paper, slapped it down on the counter, and by the time the woman looked back up, the bell over the door had rung and the statuesque blonde was disappearing through the door and around the corner.

 — 

“Why.”

Linda's voice was flat. Charlotte eyed her. “Why what?”

In response, Linda did little more than lift the vase on the corner of her desk. A dozen red and yellow roses were settled inside. Charlotte brightened, beaming. “Ah! So you did get them. I was beginning to wonder. Did you get the note?”

“I...did,” Linda said slowly, nodding. “It was...well. Mm.” She laughed, nervously in that long, giggling way she often did, and Charlotte sighed as she inevitably began to find it charming. Linda Martin screamed charm, after all – unintentional but genuine, and that was what had started it all in the first place. Lucifer had left, and so then Charlotte had nothing to do and no one to speak to except for the children who she hated and Mazikeen who she hated even _more,_ and Dan. Beautiful, lovely Dan who had resisted her advances with a sort of determination she'd never known _any_ human to possess before.

It was, naturally, time for her to move on. She'd visited Linda one day, or rather she'd snuck into her office while the woman was out to lunch like she usually did and waited on the couch, barely resisting the urge to pry through the therapist's personal possessions. (But if she'd slid open a drawer or two to peek inside, no one would ever know.) Linda had entered, set her coffee down, and – then screamed when she turned and saw Charlotte.

It was the worst thing about her, Charlotte thought. Her jumpiness. But then, humans were generally jumpy. Weak, squirmy little bugs.

At least some of them were very, very _appealing._

It had become a routine of sorts. Charlotte had tried the usual tactics. Flirting, touching, and then one afternoon she leaned in and kissed Linda on the cheek and the woman had turned redder than a tomato. So she tried it again the day after, closer to her mouth. And again the next day, on the lips.

That was when Linda pushed her away – as though she didn't want it – and told her that she had an appointment and Charlotte needed to get out.

Charlotte got out.

“What does that mean?”

“It means...it means...it—I don't know. Why are you doing this?”

Charlotte shrugged and stood. She was wearing a particularly tight-fitting dress this morning; slick, dark leather that clung to her and dipped low between her breasts, and she felt Linda's gaze linger. Wonderful. So she hadn't forced herself into this thing that restricted her breathing for nothing after all. “The note says it all, Doctor Martin. Enjoy your morning.” She left, being sure to swing her hips more than entirely necessary as she did.

— 

The next day, she brought the good doctor her coffee and a bagel from a little diner she knew the woman frequented. The evening after that, she brought her a box of chocolates with two missing. When Linda looked at her, Charlotte raised an eyebrow unapologetically. _I was hungry,_ she said, and for some reason that was what made Linda smile the most. The afternoon after, she was stopped in the hallway outside of Linda's office by the woman in question, a paper bag in her hands.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Doing this. It's – unprofessional, first of all. Deeply so. I am not...interested—“ Linda's voice trailed off, and her eyes inevitably drifted lower to the bag. “What is that?”

“A bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwich. I also got you a brownie. The woman who brought me it said it was sure to 'blow your mind'. I think she thought I was going to eat it. I only took one bite. I wouldn't say it was mind-blowing, necessarily, but then, _I_ am not a human who can be persuaded by ridiculous things like chocolate-chip brownies.” Linda just stared. “Are you going to take it or not? It's still warm.”

The therapist reached out, slowly, and took the bag.

Charlotte smiled.

 — 

She was winning Linda Martin over. She knew it the moment the woman's eyes lingered too long on her cleavage, the moment she started inviting her in, the moment she started accepting her gifts without anything like a _why are you doing this_ or a _get out of my office_ or a _did you pick the lock that is_ completely _against the law you realize that right?_

Charlotte knew it most of all when they ended up in bed together. It was a relief; she'd been running out of gift ideas, and that nine-thousand dollar string of diamonds was truly the best yet. She wasn't certain if she would have been able to top it, though she'd thought about buying her a tiger for a moment. (That moment passed when she realized that, if Linda nearly hyperventilated over a necklace, she would most certainly hyperventilate over a tiger.)

She gave the doctor three long, drawn-out orgasms before she was finally pushed away and Linda flopped onto the bed with a groan. It was a feat that Charlotte was moderately proud of, though she knew that if she hadn't been pushed away she could have gone for a fourth. Possibly a fifth, even though it was somewhat tasking on this stupid human shell of hers.

“Wow,” Linda said dimly, staring at the ceiling. It was dark, the only lights being those of the lamps outside and the headlights of any car that briefly passed. “That was...”

“Yes.” Charlotte hummed, brushing her hair back and reaching for a bottle of water on the bedside table. She leaned down to kiss Linda afterwards, tasting sweat. “It was.”

“But...why?”

Charlotte sighed. “Why not? I like you, and I enjoy your company. You clearly enjoy _mine._ I could have sex with anyone I wanted, but I chose you. You should feel flattered, really. It isn't every day, I'm sure, that you get a goddess in your bed, although I know that you have also had my _son_ in your bed. Tell me, who's better? You can be honest. I won't tell.”

“You're lonely.”

Charlotte paused, fingers dropping from around the sheets. She'd just been about to climb out of the bed to find the clothes that were strewn across the room, but that one word made her stop, made something run unpleasantly cold inside of her. It was a familiar word, a familiar feeling, delivered in an entirely unfamiliar tone of voice. She'd wanted to fluster the doctor, not make her sound so certain of something Charlotte wasn't.

“Of course I'm not,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I have this human's children to bother me all day every day, after all. And Amenadiel. This life is _filled_ with people. Too many, really. I'd much rather trade them all out in favor of 'loneliness'. Especially those little brats—“

“Being alone and being lonely are two entirely different things, Charlotte.”

Charlotte wondered, briefly, if being alone was the feeling that had haunted her ever since she had been forced out of Hell. It was something dark and cold and crawling, and she'd never managed to put a name to it. Not properly. Mostly, she called it by what it was: an annoyance.

Warmth closed around her hand. Linda's fingers looped around her own and squeezed, palm to palm. “You're lonely,” the woman repeated, as though Charlotte hadn't heard it well enough the first time.

Charlotte dropped her head atop a pillow, gazing at a yellow-orange light that darted in from the window and across the ceiling. “Well,” she said, eyes drifting shut. She had a headache, suddenly. She hated headaches. Humans had to deal with all of this pain all the time, and what for? It was absolutely ridiculous. “Make me less lonely, then, _doctor._ ”

Linda leaned down and kissed her, gentle. Charlotte gripped her arm and squeezed her hip, feeling real solid warm flesh beneath her fingertips, feeling the human's pulse as she slid her fingers up the column of her throat, and again as they fell down across her arm to her wrist, stroking her skin until goosebumps sprouted beneath her touch and Linda shivered. “We shouldn't—“

“We already have,” Charlotte said sharply, interrupting her, “So it doesn't matter if we do it again, now, does it?” Before Linda could speak, she brought her in to another kiss. Her hair was soft, her skin like silk, and everything else melted away, even the tight feeling in her chest.

Charlotte wanted more.

 — 

Four days later, a man smiled at a woman in a hallway outside of an office. “Delivery for you.”

She signed, thanked him, and closed the door. Afterwards, she leaned back against that same door and stared at the colorful tulip arrangement. It was beautiful, but she sighed and reached for the note first and foremost, knowing full well what she would find.

A white note, stamped with a pinkish-red lipstick mark.

_Let's have more sex. —C xo_


End file.
